Truly Madly Deeply

Two

Well, the past two days had been torture. The scene played out in Kevin's mind with the interminable frequency and duration of a godawful movie he was forced to watch. Seeing Patrick's devastation, and the resigned look on his face as Kevin watched the door close.

Kevin had given up dialing Patrick's number, the message being clear to him now. Patrick didn't want to talk. Okay. Well, Kevin didn't have the heart to hear those recriminations from Patrick, so Kevin decided to give it a rest, allow themselves time to recover from the pain they had inflicted to each other, to let the scabs close the wounds that ran so deep, if not fully heal them. It was what he wants, anyways. Space. And he surely got what he asked for, in fucking spades.

Besides, Kevin's wounds did feel raw at the moment.

All day yesterday, and all day today, Kevin had stayed home, didn't bother to go to the gym to, as he had dealt with stress in the past, sweat it all out. He didn't feel like doing that yesterday, and sure as hell didn't feel like doing that today. But truth be told, he didn't want to do anything at the moment. So he sat there in the living room, deliberately missing breakfast, lunch, and now dinner, the remote in his hand, flicking through the television for English comedy shows that would distract him from the images of Patrick flitting across his mind, and for something to fill the silence that hung oppressively above him.

Which left Kevin no choice but to take a draught of his own medicine. And so he did what he asked Patrick to do. What do I really want? Kevin asked himself.

Kevin fell silent, as he gathered all his thoughts, to come up with an answer even he, ever the doubting Thomas that he was, could actually believe.

As he gathered his thoughts, though, he was revisited by the very first time he had met Patrick Flynn Murray. Kevin had fond memories of that night, when Patrick, emboldened by a pint of Dutch courage, had asked to hook up with him. Thinking about it had always brought a smile to his face, and at times, a little chuckle would escape him at the utter silliness of the encounter. But he couldn't help himself feeling sorry for the poor guy, Kevin turning down Patrick's indecent proposal, telling him flatly that he had a boyfriend, and as though the humiliation Kevin subjected Patrick into wasn't enough, Kevin had upped his aggressiveness a notch further, though why he couldn't tell, when he'd revealed to Patrick that he was his new boss in MDG, which served Patrick right, and put him right back on his place, with Patrick walking away, his tail between his legs. But try as he might, Kevin could not deny how moved he was of Patrick. Kevin, in all his life, had been the one pursuing, the one chasing after what he wants. So it was indeed a breath of fresh air, having the tables turned, to be the one being pursued this time, by Patrick no less, who, despite Kevin's pointless sourgraping, he found himself drawn towards. And it was with quiet wonder in which Kevin found himself, as though bewitched by the irresistible Patrick Murray. But with magic or not, Kevin had been unable to resist the strong pull he felt towards Patrick, like the opposing pole of the magnet, inexorably drawn towards the other. As much as he wanted to, though, Kevin had no choice but to weed out the feelings that had been sowed in him before they could ever thrive. He wasn't free after all, he was with Jon. And Patrick, fully aware and fully comprehending Kevin's situation, had been a good sport, and no sooner had he realized Kevin was no longer available than he had . . . moved on, which, in some way, though Kevin ought to feel liberated, not having to offer Patrick some sort of consolation, Kevin felt disappointed. Was it only him, Kevin, who had invested more feelings into this . . . thing, whatever it was? It would seem so because Patrick, having been turned down twice in a row, simply carried on being friends with Kevin. And Kevin, deep in the darkest recess of his subconscious, knew he wanted Patrick, and he didn't want Patrick to be just his friend. Well, the infatuation will run its course eventually, Kevin thought, the spark that started it all would soon lose its brilliance and the flames would have died even before they began burning. He would move on, as well. Well, if Kevin were able to lie to anyone's face without batting an eye, there's one person he wasn't able to lie to. Himself. And Kevin couldn't be further from the truth. Because the infatuation had been replaced by fascination, with desire. How it happened, and how it began, Kevin doesn't know. But Kevin suspected it was when he'd seen Patrick, upon returning to the office after he settled Jon in their apartment, wearing that ridiculous leather vest. Now there were five senses. The sense of smell, hearing, taste and touch, Kevin counted them off as he made a mental note. And as for the sense of sight, well, Kevin found Patrick to be an absolute tease. And it was a sight to behold, Patrick looked so fine as he clutched the hem of the leather vest to cover his smooth, hairless, muscular chest, bare arms flexed resulting from the struggle. And just a peek of the trail of fine hair just below his navel, that ran deliciously downwards, as if to guide Kevin's eyes towards the south, until they vanished beneath the hem of his black underwear, his jeans. Kevin's cock had twitched in response. For a moment his eyes had been glued on Patrick's crotch, which, luckily, not one of Patrick's friends had noticed. Kevin wondered how it looked, that secret place underneath Patrick's pants and between Patrick's groin. Kevin thought of Patrick's cock, stroking it, nuzzling it, of how it felt as it grew hard under his touch, how Patrick tastes. Hmmm. Well, a man can dream. But a thought distracts Kevin. Because Patrick, a man clearly favored by the gods, who had blest him with a Greek god's beauty and physique, was entirely oblivious to his appeal. Yes, Patrick had the perfect body, but was rather ashamed of it, or so it seemed. And so it was one of the mysteries of Patrick Flynn Murray. That night, lying awake on the bed with Jon asleep beside him, images of Patrick wearing that leather vest flitted across Kevin's mind. He thought about the things he thought about as he feasted his eyes on Patrick, and before he knew it, was touching himself. Kevin, before he went all the way, thought it inappropriate to think of Patrick while Jon lay asleep beside him, and so he had crept out of the bed and went into the bathroom, and standing underneath the shower, jerked off. It had been a week since he had last tossed himself off. Kevin thought of the many ways he could fuck Patrick. It was like Kevin being fifteen again, with all those raging hormones. All those stress, all those frustrations, and all the pressure building up and deadlines he had to meet, and of course, the lewd thoughts about Patrick, well, that set off Kevin instantly and deliciously towards Kingdom come. And when he came, the desire rippling across his body in spasms, God, it was so fucking good the breath was knocked out of him. After cleaning himself up, Kevin crept back to bed, and before closing his eyes, as sleep hung perilously close above him, he knew one thing. That he will have more of Patrick Flynn Murray.